


Who Says You’re Not A Shelby?

by KT_Perry



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: 1920s, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Angst and Romance, BBC, Birmingham City, Bwwm, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Drama & Romance, F/M, Fake Marriage, Family, Family Drama, Family Issues, Female Character of Color, Gangsters, Interracial Relationship, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Reader Is A Shelby (Peaky Blinders), Season/Series 04, Snippets, Suggestive Themes, Violence, Written in one night, forgive for I have sinned!lol, smallheath
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 10:53:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21135533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KT_Perry/pseuds/KT_Perry
Summary: Lilah Morgan had not wanted to go home after her time as a field nurse in The Great War. Not to Canada and all her old memories. And definitely not back to the nunnery that she'd lied about her aged to get away from.And so in 1918 somehow she'd ended up in Birmingham. And like a plant she'd grown strong in the close-knit family of the shelby's.Two years later she left back to Frances for another 'better life'.When she returns they are in worse trouble than ever before but who can say no to family.Everyone welcomes her home, but Thomas."You think I would betray my family?" She whispered.He pauses at that, and stared up at her from where his eyes had fallen to the table as if reading his investigation from a script.There was nothing there in those eyes, as he said, "Family-maybe; but not blood."*This is a snippet from a weird intricate dream I had, has not been beta-edited..at all (Was written in one night. Forgive me, I will edit it soon!)*





	1. Her boys and Changretta

**Author's Note:**

> *NOT BETA-EDITED...LIKE AT ALL.*
> 
> I must repeat. 
> 
> ~ENTIRE STORY WAS WRITTEN IN ONE NIGHT~

Changretta grinned, "If only you'd taken the deal, doll face. You and I could have been happy, living it up in New York—and thevermin you call family, would'a been safe."

He chewed his toothpick as he stared he up and down, grinning again. "Now your mine, and I don't care if your happy'bout it. I'm take yuh back to New York anyway and you best fake a smile."

her boys stilled behind her at the threat.

He pursed his lips dramatically, uncaring or unawares, "Oh and I'm also gunna eradicate the vermin you call family."

Lilah only sneered back over the rim of her glass.

"Honestly I'm glad. You finally realized after four years that nothing in this world, and no amount of fucking money could ever get me with in a yard of your unclothed cock. You mad, shit."

The only sound in the silence that followed, as she downed what was left of her whiskey, was the sound of Finn's barely concealed snort.

She smacked the sugary residue on her lips before giving the glass a toss, and letting it shatter as the Clubs doors swung shut behind her.

Only then, did the yelling start.

She made her way to the car. Her boys close behind as she slid into the smooth leather passenger seat, slamming the door shut behind her.

Snapping a match from the glove compartment she lit two cigarettes as Tommy slid in next to her. The leather squeaking as he slid the briefcase in between them.

Neither spoke, but she slipped one of the cigs between his lips while he reached to start the car; his mouth pliant and soft as he caught it from her fingers. Only a stubble nod to thank her, though she paid it no mind.

She stared straight ahead, knowing without seeing what was going in in the drivers seat next to her. His hand running through the already mussed hair. The stressed bob of Tommy's throat. The barely controlled anger in the tight tick of his jaw.

He inhaled long and slow resting his head back on the leather seat as the car roared to life and the back seat doors opened around them. John's car rumbled to a start a space behind them.

But, again she paid him no mind. He could broil in his rage.

She was quite calm in her own fury. Calmer than she was in her moments of peace. She felt like how Esme looked before she was about to snap.

But she had.

She had snapped, even if just a little, and she felt good in her anger, justified and righteous.

She felt like wrath itself.

And she stared at a small playground in the distance, at the chipped wooden swing swaying in the pre-storm wind, as the men spoke around her, all but Tommy.

She been successful.

Even though he may not have liked the change of plans.

The point of the meeting had been to draw Changretta's attention elsewhere - from the vulnerable children of the family.

And his anger was now, very pointedly directed her way. They'd move the children tonight as planned. Or tomorrow. Maybe she could go to the market 'alone' and draw his attention. He'd hardly be able to resist. They'd pounce and on top of getting the children out they'd likely be able to take out a few of his men.

Tommy was unmoving next to her. Still quiet and stewing in his anger.

Eventually, though The air grew thick in the car as the storm Polly had predicted drew closer, and she pulled the cigarette from her mouth.

"We should go," Was all she said, but the car immediately rambled to a cruise without acknowledgement or question.

The ride, after her short statement was utterly quiet. Not somber or peaceful. But thoughtful.

Plotting.

None of them liked that he'd threatened her. That male-ness of her Shelby boys like a switched that'd been ticked to life. He's threatened one of their women.

She'd seen six set of hands reaching for guns when she'd turned, and had too make light of it to keep a fire-fight from destroying the ber and the ten innocent patrons hiding behind said bar, and the tables around the room.

It would have been a blood bath. They may have won, but with the amount of innocent life lost... there weren't enough crooked judges between them. They'd have hung.

She wasn't offended over their protectiveness though, oddly enough.

He'd threatened one of her men today too, and she'd nearly unloaded his own pistol on him.

She glanced over at the man.

Tommy's fists were white knuckled on the steering wheel, clenching and unclenching as the sky opened up above them.

His other hand lay protectively across the seat behind her, cigarette reflecting off the glass next to her far shoulder from him.

When that protective arm had slithered there, she couldn't remember, but she watched him draw it away only to bring the smoke to his mouth for a short drag before quickly dropping it back into place.

His breathing was slow and steady as his eyes, pale, in the eerie streetlight—as they flicked around the alleys and road for any movement— any threat.


	2. A Gentleman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *NOT BETA-EDITED...LIKE AT ALL.*

**Days Ago—**

_They were sitting at the table, discussing there next move when Tommy had swept into the room. All the swagger she remember from when she was a child mixed now with all the pride of a man who had built an empire._

_But that was not what had caught her eye._

_She'd cut off mid sentence, eyes widening at the sight of a massive newly healing gash along Tommy's temple. The edges rough, raised and raw._

_"Tommy, my god," she whispered, reaching quickly across the table to turn towards the offending area._

_She shook her head, the slice was surrounded in a purpling welt. Less than a day old if she had to guess._

_She stared up at him, searching his careful stoic eyes. He was watching her too.. the room around them having fallen silent at her exclamation._

_"I'm fine." He rumbled out, those blue eyes trained on her own, flickering between hers now as if seeing something he hadn't before._

_She supposed he was right, when they'd known each other, when she was young, she'd have been to shy to press on at being shut down by those blue eyes and that straight face._

_She wasn't young anymore._

_"I know you're fine. You're always fine." She said, in quick dismissal, "I asked what happened."_

_She didn't notice he was moving until his hand covered hers, where it had been hovering just over the skin; pressing her palm against his cheek. Stubbly and taught, the sharp curve of his cheekbone against her fingertips;_

_His eyes slipped shut a moment, and she could only stare. Stunned into silence by the sheer intimacy of it._

_Heat speared up her arms from the tingling live wire of her hand against the rough shadow of his stubble and the smooth warmth of his skin below. Her stomach flopped and her ears felt as if someone had lit a match beneath them._

_He held her hand there against him. The moment ending as he stared up at her once more._

_"I'm fine."_

_She swallowed. And swallowed again._

_"It'll scar."_

_His mouth quirked a small smile as he finally released her. He hand felt cold the instant he did._

_"I'm fine." He only repeated again. _

_And it then became clear that whatever had happened was none of her concern in his eyes, and her own grew hard at the realization._

_She scoffed, shaking her head_

_"Am I so untrustworthy?" Her voice held more venom than she'd intended, and She thought about laughing to ease the delivery, but the damage was already done._

_And as quickly as it came his smile was gone, replaced momentarily by shock at said venom, before slipping into the blank emptiness she'd grown so accustom to._

_Even then, his next words shocked her to her core._

_"I don't know; are you?"_

_"Tommy!" Polly snapped, clearly affronted for her. But she could not shift her gaze from his own._

_Her chest clenched, like someone had reached a hand inside of her squeezing her heart in a white-knuckled fist, breaking her ribs to get there._

_"You would ask me that?" Her voice held strong._

_"You showed up at the perfect time-"_

_Her heart pounded in her ears, though she kept her expression stoic._

_"I have always been there for you."_

_"Who knows how much Changretta would pay for a hit this important."_

_"I don't need or want his money."_

_She shook her head in disbelief, but he merely continued._

_"You've been gone for five years and everyone knows we trust you."_

_"You think I would betray my family?"_

_He pauses at that, and stared up at her from where his eyes had fallen to the table as if reading this interrogation from an invisible script._

_There was nothing there in those eyes, as he said, "Family—maybe; but not blood."_

_Her body retreated as if struck, as chaos erupted around her._

_Arthur shot up from the chair next to her, a furious look in his eyes. John quick behind him._

_Polly too was already shouting, swear words shooting from her lips like gunshots in a language she just barely understand enough to recognize as Romani._

_But Tommy's eyes didn't leave her._

_And they only stared at one another. Quiet and Solemn_.

**Present—**

When they got home, it was Arthur that called up the stairs —they needed to have a family meeting.

Tommy was already heading for the study, a crystal baller and two knuckles of whiskey having miraculously appeared in his hand, even before she'd hung her wool coat.

The house was warm, one of the woman having started a fire preemptively in lieu of the winter shower. And she could smell the reminiscent scent of garlic and sourdough bread from dinner they'd missed.

Her stomach grumbled at the memory of food, but her mind only offered a light burbling nausea. So she decided her bourbon in the guest room was meal enough, If she had a side of another smoke with it, and headed quickly for the stairs.

The gentle grip of a large hand caught her before she could.

"Meetin room's that way, Lih." He said, nodding down the hall.

She stared at him blankly and blinked, once, twice, glancing up the stairs, at the glass of bourbon waiting for her, before turning back to him.

She didn't want to do this now.

Arthur frowned in response, at whatever he saw in her expression.

She answered before he could ask, not bothering to meet the pale blue stare that had paused on her from the 'meeting room' door.

"I'm not family. Remember?" She said, before shaking her head when his brow furrowed further, "please, Arthur Darling, no need for a fuss."

She tugged her arm gently from his grasp, patting his hand at the look in his hard wide eyes.

Poll hissed disapprovingly as she passed her —having clearly heard the exchange as she came down the stairs, and tried to meet her gaze even as she avoided them.

The snap of hushed voices followed her up over the creaking staircase even as she made her way up to the guest room.

Her clothes were soaked threw. And there was very little worse feeling, in her opinion, then wet fabric.

A feeling that brought tactile and unignorably real memories of the Great War to the forefront of her mind.

Of the sticky wetness of and blood saturating her apron, and sleeves, and matting her hair, and gloves, and of finding prices of flesh in her fingernails—

She unbuttoned her dress quickly, shucking it off and tossing the fine piece unceremoniously into the hamper. Before Reaching for her bralette next when she heard the door knob rattle, and the hinges whine open behind her.

She had half expected Pol. And didn't bother to turn.

The woman often came to her after berating Tommy for one thing or another lately.

And more often than not, with a bottle of sherry much too strong for the amount they'd make their way through in one night. Ending, ritualistically of course, when she'd have to half carry—half stumble her way to the older woman's room across the hall, laughing in hushed voices together as she managed to deposit her onto her bed.

Sometimes Ada would join, and even Esme.

They hadn't been able to drink together when she was a child. For obvious reasons. But it was oddly bonding. And it made her glad, even in all this. That she'd come back now.

However, one unfortunate and increasingly unignorable side-effect to that feeling was the odd notion that she'd been in denial of how much she missed them. That feeling sat heavily on her chest; every night she stumbled back to her room. Especially when Ada was already star-fished across her bed, snoring.

Sisters. Aunts. Brothers. She'd left them all behind.

The door shut as quickly as it opened, the creak of wood beneath shoes the only indication of the person behind her.

"I'm alright, Poll. I don't need to be there - you can fill me in in the morning, It'll make no difference"

She crossed the room, and poured herself a glass of bourbon, before reaching back once more to fiddle with the clasps of her bra, adding lightly.

"Plus, Arthur's been drinking so I'm sure you'll have a more efficient summarization, than a constantly interrupted speech from Tommy."

She was met with a quiet huff.

"I'm sure she would."

Her hand froze at the smooth sound of his deep baritone behind her, just as the clasps at her back fell apart.

She paused a moment before turning to glance at him over her shoulder.

"You would have let me undress in front of you?" She glowered, narrowing her eyes at him.

He didn't respond, only reached for his case of cigarettes from his pocket.

"That's hardly gentlemanly," she finished as he plucked one up, sliding it between his lips.

"You've known me almost ten years, 'is 'gentlemanly' ever been a word you'd use to describe me?" He said around the smoke, before offering her the case.

She plucked one out, clutching her bralette, dangling now around her chest, to her breasts.

His eyes didn't drop from hers though.

Those clear blue orbs didn't slink across her body as some men's did when she was ten times more clothed.

"Yes. It was." She said, finally.

His hand paused at that, though only for a moment before he pocketed the case and pulled out a lighter in its place. Taking a step towards her to light her smoke before lighting his own, and snapping the delicately engraved metal piece shut and pocketing that too.

He took a long drag, and she watched him blink up at the ceiling.

"We both know I shouldn't'ave said what I said to you that day." He spoke around the smoke of his exhale, "We both know, I was out'a fuckin line."

She coughed out a laugh, "Who threatened you to come up here and say that?"

Tommy's eyes didn't drop, but a slow smirk pulled at his stoic mouth.

"No one..." he shrugged,"—and everyone."

" 'No one' 'and everyone'." She nodded, turning from him and taking a drag as she pulled out a dry bralette from her closet drawer.

She shook her head, "let me guess, because you listened to fucking no one, but everyone in the fucking family told you to."

There was a pause, and then a deep resonating chuckled.

"You are a smart girl."

She shook her head, again.

"Woman," She corrected, " I was a smart girl when you knew me before, but I am a woman now, Tommy."

She pursed her lips before adding, "Changretta's a sick fuck, but he wouldn't have threatened a 'girl' the way he did me tonight."

She could almost hear jaw jaw ticking.

A tell he only had alone or around family.

*NOT BETA-EDITED...LIKE AT ALL.*


	3. An Unexpected Development

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *NOT BETA-EDITED...LIKE AT ALL.*

The silence between them stretched on, and she could feel his stare now. On her body, or the back of her head—it didn't matter. It was on her, and as he had said about her own eyes once upon a time—- it laid her bare before him, like he could see all.

She could hear the anger in his voice as he spoke, a tone that made his men go pale, and his enemy's draw their weapons.

"You won us that one, de-masculating him in front of his men like that; but he won't forget it."

"No," she agreed with a nod, turning away fully to drop her bra down her arms and into the hamper atop her dress."I don't suppose he will."

Tommy's voice didn't change, "He is a sick fuck, and he meant what he said."

"I know he did."

"I'm going to shoot him and sink him to the bottom of the Cut for it."

"Not if I get him first."

There was another pause, and they both took a long drag and she let the smoke in her lungs clear the violence in her mind. Before he finally spoke again.

"You'll never be a Changretta-"

She wondered if this was him telling her he knew it may have crossed her mind, prior to tonight encounter, as a way to end the fucking feuding and killing.

She laughed, "no, not If I can help it."

"-you're already a Shelby."

She turned at that—and his time his eyes lost the war, dipping down over the bared flesh of her chest. To the curve of her breasts in the creamy moonlight.

"Am I? Is that your verdict? "

Though she'd turned out of shock, not meaning to bare herself to him, she forced herself not to shy away from that look in his eyes, unbidden and, barely concealed, and so uncommonly open.

She'd been naked before men before. Men who'd appraised her more thoroughly.

Countless times for hours on end in fact while paying her tuition ; she'd modelled Henry Bodufuer in his parlour. For Gideon Dames in his studio.

But Isaac, her silly Isaac Von Dorbren, for the longest, in his study, and he'd turned her this way and that until she'd- at least in his eyes- become the perfect Madonna. Bare-breasted and clutching a pocilin doll to her chest in place of to-be-painted baby Jesus.

It had come out beautiful. And scandalized more than a few.

Her moonlit breasts were worth thousands he'd laughed afterwards. She'd laughed too.

But now, as Tommy's eyes dropped down her body, from the pin-curl top of her head to her cherry painted toenails... her stomach burned and coiled inside her.

He took a step towards her, met her eyes, then took another. Her chin tilting skywards to hold his gaze.

"I don't know what this is," he said, and she knew he meant this, this whatever it was between them. That even in her annoyance and outright anger at him, she couldn't deny, "And I don't like it."

He held her eyes and she waited.

Often times, though he extruded so much mass and intimidation, he barely existed in the space he was in. An odd balance on big waves and none. But now, so naked, now she could feel the heat of him.

"I don't like how young you are." He stated firmly.

She shook her head, "I'm not young anymore."

"I don't like that this would make yah a target."

She rolled her eyes,"I'm already a target."

He stared at her, harder now. Another step, and they we nearly chest to chest, the expensive material of his suit brushing the sensitive tips of her skin.

"Well then, I also I do not fuckin like the sound of Changretta and yer name together. Or that Johnny Dogs hast'a cross 'is legs whenever you enter'a room with those swayin hips'a'yours.And I definitely do not like that Alfie would put'a fuckin mortgage out on'is fuckin estate to get under yer skirt."

His voice, as he spoke, slowly lost the poshness the two years had given him. And the hard gravel of the young brummie man who was willing to brake the law and sew it back together the way he wanted it, returned.

A man so angry at the world, and so rightfully so; but still so hopeful, whispered lowly into her ear now.

His hands touched her then, settling into the dip of her waist. The rough pads of his thumbs pressing into her ribs in a bone deep caress, the tips brushing just barely the undersides of her breasts.

"That so?" She whispered back, a bit more breathless than she'd like, but still amused, "I've never noticed Johnny crossing his legs-"

She didn't know when they began to move but the cool wood of her dresser met her back just as Tommy dipped down to catch the peak of her breast within the scalding expanse of his lips.

Heat broke out across her body like the crackingburst of a log in a fireplace, all sparks; random and shocking. Making her moan shake in her throat until it came out a barely gasp.

The scent of him, clean linens, pine, and the metallic scent of gunpowder wafted up from in those black locks, catching in her throat.

"Fuck, Lilah," he hissed against her skin as she ran her nails through his tousled damp hair and down the back of his neck,clutching him closer with another gasp.

He braced a hand on the dresser behind them none too gently. Making the bobbles atop it rattle dangerously, though neither of them paid it mind.

She cursed as he nipped her, before kissing his way across her goose flesh ridden sternum and up the flushed skin of her neck, as she drew her hips into his.

And god, oh god. 

He was hard against her and the thin silk of her underwear, even with his trousers, just wasn't enough to block out the feeling of it.

Of him.

She rolled herself into him, tossing her leg over his hip to drag him closer as she did so.

"Fuck," his teeth caught the 'f' in his mouth. As one hand dew up her thigh. Short nails biting into her flesh and he pressed back against her.

The other though, caught her chin then.

He dragged her face back to his own, his hand wide and hot against her chin and cheeks as he held her gaze.

"You listen t'me,'He said in that deep brazen accent she remembered so fondly.

"We're gunna go to m'bedroom —and a'm gunna make luv t'yah." He said, nodding to himself as he stared down at her, her heart hammered in her chest at his stare, and her stomach coiled in the best of ways.

He continued when she realized she'd nodded in return, "And after all this shit is'over a'm gunna make you a Shelby in name. Gunna make it'proper. On paper and in froont'a whateva fuckin god you still got faith' in."


	4. No Privacy with Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *NOT BETA-EDITED...LIKE AT ALL.*

Her mouth fell open.

Then slammed shut.

Then slowly creaked open again.

And then a laugh, breathless, and half humoured—half hysterical bounced up her throat.

"Do I have a choice in that?"

He didn't smile but she could see the amusement in his eyes.

"Yeah, when and where. And 'owever many little Shelbys you want runnin about the'ouse."

"And if I don't want any?" she bated, confused as to how—how in god's name, it had gotten to this.

When he'd decided it, she realized.

That's when.

Tommy Shelby never made a rushed decisions, but here he was, and there was a seriousness in his eyes she couldn't deny.

"Then we'll'ave a magnificently silent 'ouse." He said, not missing a beat.

"Tommy-"

The door creaked open and they both froze.

All thoughts and feeling flooded from her so quick she felt empty and brittle.

"Lilah love, Tommy should'a never'ave said that to yah-"

Author eyes blew wide, so wide she could see the curvature of them in his socket as he took in the scene before him.

His mouth opened, and then closed, and then opened again before his eyes really landed on her, and then- on his brother.

"fuckin fuck!" He finally bellowed. Before turning away from her bared skin.

At that, more quickly than she'd had to process the intrusion Tommy had tugged his suit off to cover her with.

She pulled it tight over her shoulders and over her naked form.

Arthur only gave her modesty a moment though before he turned back, clearly anger broiling past her decency.

"The fuck you doin, Tom? fucking'ell!"

She pushed forward past the Tommy who'd gone still next to her, towards Arthur just as she heard another set of footsteps on the stairs.

"Shhh! Arthur, please!" She hissed, but it was too late as Polly rounded the corner behind him. No doubt come to see what the ruckus was about.

The older woman's astute eyes took in the scene quickly. Her wise eyes going hard as the fell on Tommy behind her.

Lilah glanced back at the man, his face having fallen back into an expression of unreadable stoicism. He didn't even look at her, eyes only for the cold gaze of his Aunt.

"Nah! Nah! Dun't 'shhhh, Arthur' me!" Arthur cut in, pointing an accusing finger at her before glaring over her shoulder at Tommy along will Poll, "The fuck you thinkin?"

Lilah cut in, "Arthur I'm not a child-"

'Quiet, Lih.' Arthur snapped, his tone one that she'd never had directed her way.

It made her flinch. Not from a threat, not matter how unhinged or angry Arthur could be, he was never a threat- not to her, but from the anger and disappointment in it.

"Arthur..."She whispered both affronted and hurt.

She reached out towards him as he stomped into her room past her towards his brother. She went to follow buy Polly caught her arm, pulling her out of the room with an iron like grasp on her forearm.

"You know what that girl is to me! A fuckin daughter!" Arthur shouted at the unmoved Tommy, his face a stony statue of emotionlessness.

Tommy said nothing, and clearly this only angered Arthur more.

"She ain't one' a yur' w'ores Tommy! Ya'ain't toss'in her over no desk and being done wif'her." He bellowed.

"She's a fuckin angel. She's done so much for us. The fuck you think! It'd be' alright? A little cunny wif the night cap?"

His tone was a mocking satire of his brothers before her continued, his anger intensifying.

Never. Never had she seen Arthur at him like this. She was surprised the whole house hadn't been drawn to what she was now sure—as Arthur's hand pushed at his sleeves, was a coming brawl.

"Fuckin, No! fuck you thinkin? I won't forgive yah this!"

Tear welled in her eyes, thick and burning. Like acid. As she watched Arthur grabbed His brothers lapels and drag him towards him. There faces inches apart as he shouted.

"The fuck yah thinkin yah can treat'er like soom back alley sally?"

Arthur turn on her then face red with rage as the tears spilt over her cheeks, still clutching Tommy's lapels tightly.

"You in the family way? That it?"

Her stomach dropped and She shook her head, "No! No, of course not!" She snapped through her tears

She wretched and tugging towards them, but Polly's hand remained a vice, anchoring her to the threshold of the door.

On top of that, her answer only seemed to make it worse.

Aurthur rounded back on his brother slamming him into the dresser only moments he'd found them against.

Tommy's face remained unmoved and Arthur only grew more wrathful. All the pent up anger bursting forth like a force of god.

"She lyin?" He hissed, "She lyin for yuh? You ruinin' er, and got'er lyin for yuh?"

She tugged again, wrenching her arm against the deadlock of Polly's grip.

She stared back at the woman, 'Polly, please.'

"Fuckin say somethin!" He bellowed, "She up the duff? That it?"

"No!' She yelled, shaking her head vapid, 'I promise, Arthur!'

Her heart pounded and her stomach coiled as the older brother ignored her. The fist once clenched on Tommy's lapel beginning to raise.

"We're.." She trailed off, and met Tommy's eyes over Arthur's shoulder, they were cold, distant. Willing to take whatever punishment his brother dished out for him.

She paused and held his gaze. They couldn't fall apart now, not like this. Not because of the pressure and anger. Not over nothing. Not when they're we're so much more important things.

"We're getting married," She sniffed.

The whole room went silent.


	5. How Did We Get Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *NOT BETA-EDITED...LIKE AT ALL.*

A graveyard of shock, and eerie quiet.

Even Polly's grip loosen slightly.

"We're getting married." She said again. This time stronger, adding, "it was supposed to be a surprise."

The silence lasted an eternity and her own words echoed in her ears.

"You're fuckin what?" Arthur asked lowly.

"He asked. He asked to do it proper. To make- to make an honest woman of me. He asked, and I said yes.... It-it was supposed to be a surprise."

Another painfully long pause. The silence crackling in her ears.

"This true Thomas?" Polly's tone was cutting and tainted disbelief.

"You ask her to marry you?"

Tommy met his aunt's eyes, and then Lilah's. Still stoic, still unreadable.

"Yes, I did."

"And you are going to marry her?" Arthur asked full of suspicion.

For the first time since his brother had entered a flicker of emotion crossed his eyes and he swallowed.

Tommy's eyes didn't leave her. "I'mma make a proper Shelby woman' of'er, yah."

"-and she ain't up the duff?" Arthur added briskly.

Lilah only sighed taking in the unstable bit of peace she'd managed, heart still beating so fast she could barely hear them over it.

"No, I'm not pregnant, Arthur...we haven't-" she sighed, "I ain't pregnant. Not unless it's Jesus."

Tommy mouth was the first to crack. And she glowered at him. But Arthur chuckled behind him his hands dropping from his brother's lapels.

Tommy patted his suit down adsently, as if nothing had happened. All the tension leaving the room at his uncommon smile as Polly snorted a scoff behind her.

"My Nephew, marryin a virgin?" The older woman shook her head, "Maybe we are all gunna die."

Polly huffed patting her back as the rest of the tenseness bled from the room, "That or the end is truly nye."

Arthur approached as Polly released her. Stopping before her with an oddly whimsical stare.

"Yuv always been mah itty bitty sister luv. Now I'll be able to say yuh'are proper, eh?" He said.

Though Lilah felt positively ill—ears still plugged and pounding, the look in his eyes made her swallow.

She nodded, and sighed.

"You have always been my big brother Arthur."

He nodded back sobering up, figuratively, since a moment later his big hand fished deep into his pocket for his flask, and took a long hardy few gulps.

She almost reached out to snatch it away when he finally dropped it. His mouth going wide with a grin as her turned to his brother once more, as Tommy crossed to room towards them. Looking as if it had all been his plan.

She frowned as Arthur patted her shoulder.

"Now then! We've got some proper fuckin celebrat'in to do then, eh?"

Always so quick to change his tune while she nearly emptied her stomach from the stress and emotional whiplash, blinking up at the man as he drew Tommy under his arm tugging his brother into the hall.

Lilah watch him grin and kiss him on his pale cheeks, glancing back at her and Polly as he drew him down the stairs.

"We'll'av our meetin in the mornin, eh?" He shouted, "We'll let you women' ave your celebratin and we'll'ave ours."

His voice faded but she could still hear him by the time they reach what she suspected was the meeting room, 'Yah beautiful whipped bastard. Never thought the domestic life would be for you."

Before calling loud and clear about the house, "Linda! Ada! Esme! Head on up to the parlour eh, and bring the gin, Yer gettin a new sister!"


	6. A Sister is a Sister is a Sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *NOT BETA-EDITED...LIKE AT ALL.*

Lilah lay among the immobile bodies of her sisters-to-be.Some how a title father from her than they had been the day prior.

They'd been her sisters, now they were her sister-to-be, and if this ruse continued. They'd be her sisters-in-law.

Dawn broke though the window and she hadn't slept a wink. Waiting for a chance to find Tommy and ask him how they'd get out of this—and ask him if he'd been serious or lust drunk in that moment. Or maybe just lusting and drunk.

They had avoided what could've been a major fall out. She knew that.

If Tommy hadn't thought Arthur's reaction was a big deal he would have reacted, he would have put him down and told him off. His stoism in the moment told her he was unsure. Unsure of what this would mean and what the fall out would have been.

He wouldn't have fought back. Not right away. But when Arthur took it to far - as he alway did..

It could have been bad. Very bad. They would have had to call John. There would have been sides, and everyone and their wifes were just itching for a reason to come at Tommy.

And that may have been it.

A spark to a wildfire that's ashes if it had separated them could've meant the Shelby empire, and possibly their lives.

The revelation that she almost caused what she did sat she heavy in her belly all night; and no forced laughter and no amount of gin could settle it. 

The dawn light illuminating the room of women, her family,around her only added to her guilt.

She Brushed herself off. Gagging a bit as her stomach clench at the motions of her pulling herself to her feet.

But she needed to find him, hangover be damned.


	7. A Little More Serious Than Anticipated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *NOT BETA-EDITED...LIKE AT ALL.*

She did not have to search at all and was glad for it, because she was really barely standing. The man in question was just outside Polly's bedroom door, just barely dodging it at he shut his own behind him.

He met her eyes, as he pulled his cigarette case from his pocket. A small smile quirked at his mouth as he gave her a once over.

She could only imagine what she looked like.

He opened his mouth to comment, most likely, but so,etching behind her caught his attention.

"No rutting like beasts before the wedding," Polly's voice was thick with sleep and Lilah jumped at the sound, having heard the woman snoring only moments prior.

She blinked confoundedly at the woman. Perfectly put together only a few stray hairs out of place after she'd drank nearly a half bottle of gin on her on just that night.

Polly just fixed her hair, clearing her throat and swaying to her feet as she eyed them. She gave Linda a kick as shepast her immobile body is not hard, but not light either. And was met with a grumbled curse.

"I'm serious." She pointed between them as she neared.

"A virgin is good luck at a weddin, and you know no one else in the damned family fits the bill."

The children. She wanted to say, but realized they'd been off to France with the Lees by then if all went as planned.

Polly glanced around the room at the symphony of groans. Before stepping over the still sleeping Ada to pass them.

"And you both know we need the luck."

Polly had made it halfway down the hall by the time Tommy had lit and taken his first pull of his cigarette. He offered it to her but Lilah waved it off. She needed water first. Her mouth still tasted like - well, at the very least, very expensive gin.

He drew a thumb across his bottom lip before Polly started down the stairs.

"Book the chapel then, Poll."

Polly stopped, and they both turned to stare at the bedraggled Tommy next to her.

Bedraggled; for him.

He hadn't slept the night prior; she could tell, even though his suit vest and shirt were new and perfectly pressed.

He either didn't notice or paid no mind to their staring, snapping open his pocket watch before snapping it closed again.

Was he avoiding, or actually running late for something? That, she could never tell.

"We don't have time to waste for luck,'" He added.

Polly turned and met his eyes, her wide gaze flickering between his as he brought the smoke back to his mouth again and nodded. Lilah's eyes grew wide.

Are they serious.

Is he serious?

"The seamstress can'ave somethin done in a week for us. Can't'ave a Shelby bride walk'in down in a some blanket off the stable horses."

Tommy nodded, "Pay 'er double."

Poll nodded again and Lilah was silent in shock of the conversation happening in front of her.

"I'll need your woman for a measuring."

His woman?

He nodded.

"No where out of this 'ouse without six blinders. Not you or 'er or Ada or Linda, alright? - not after what 'e threatened."

Polly shrugged and nodded.

"Breakfast first then we'll leave."

Lilah didn't nod her assent but Poll smiled and turned.

She watched the woman go.


	8. An Heirloom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *NOT BETA-EDITED...LIKE AT ALL.*

"Are we really doing this?" She finally whispered, when Polly was long gone, and could hear the clang of pots in the kitchen.

After a thought she shut the door to the room of slumbering women behind them.

She pressed her forehead in the cool wood of the painted door when he didn't answer.

Though, she wasn't even sure if she'd expected him to.

Taking a breath, Lilah tried to settle a bubbling unease in her belly, whether from booze, or sudden impending marriage, or both.

"Do you not want to?"

She turned on him, eyes wide and startled.

They stared at each other a moment before he sighed.

"Chngretta's men - they're 'alf murders 'alf religious cooks. It'll keep'em from you. Like that—like 'ow 'e threatened.... I'll keep'em from you."

She shook her head at his words and tone.

"I don't want to be kept."

He sighed again.

How was even his sigh a husky baritone?

"That's not what I meant."

"But it's what you said."

He turned fully to her, the space between them next to nothing in the narrow hall.

"Lilah, you can't coom a'bout with us —not after what 'e threatened. 'He'll be waitin till you're alone."

"That was the whole point."

"Lih-"

"I'm not a child, and I'm not your woman. You can't make these decisions for me."

She snapped, shaking her head, and throwing a good few steps distance between them so it didn't feel as if he were towering over her as he did.

"You will inform me and keep updated, and I will make decisions for my well-being for myself."

He stared a moment, as if checking that she was serious. That she would hold firm on her statement.

When she did, His eyes roll up too the ceiling as he wet his lips and swallowed before taking another drag. Her insides boiled and the muscles in her eyes twitched with malice —and as he drew his cigarette from his stoic mouth, she snatched it from him cracking it in half and glaring.

"This. Is. Not. Up for thoughtful debate."

He seemed surprised enough. In the flicker of his eyes to hers, and the sudden tenseness of his shoulders— as if he hadn't suspected she could be quick enough to manage such a thing.

His jaw clenched when the shock wore off and he raised a brow. Dropping his hand to his side and reaching for his pocket, for what she knew was another cigarette.

"Alright, you will be kept informed of all pertinent information."

She rolled her eyes, hearing the loophole in his wording, and truly hating that she was expecting it.

She slammed the still burning cigarette in her and into the crystal bowl on the side table next to them. The weak wooden legs shaking from the force.

"I will be kept up on 'all' information," she shot back, "If I'm going to be your wife you can - at the very least keep me as informed as everyone else in this family."

She added the last part with tense amusement, so thick with sarcasm —that quickly caught in her throat at his answer.

"Alright, fine."

And then as quickly as it'd strayed, that conversation was back to where it had started.

"You're serious."

"Yes," Her said, lighting a new smoke, taking a long drag this time, "you will be kept informed of all—"

"No, no!" She waved her hand dismissively, "about...about marriage. Getting married. Us getting married."

He clicked his lighter closed gliding it into his pocket, not glancing up until he

spoke.

"Why wouldn't I be?" He said, his face obscured by the smoke of his exhale.

"Tommy, please."

She couldn't handle his game right now, while her hangover pounded behind her eyes.

"Do I usually jest about such things?" He asked.

"Do you normally propose to every woman you mean to fuck?"

He cocked his head a bit as the smoke dissipate around him, his raven locks catching the cool morning light of the sunrise threw the Paisley curtains behind him.

Sometimes, she forgot he'd said that his mother had auburn hair and then, Tommy's or Arthur's hair would catch flame like that in the light and there mother's soft smile would flicker into her mind from the one photo she'd seen of her.

Pol had always wanted this. Though she had assumed it would be John then.

'Only you can rally those silly boys, Lih! You promise to take one off my hands when you're older, don't you?' The memory was a dying ember in her mind. Of a happy time after the war spending time with the bookies in Birmingham. But the warmth was nearly enough to make her smile.

But Tommy was a different man then the boy she'd known then. And she was so different from that girl.

He still hadn't responded .

She turned, when the silence stretched on and made it clear to her he wasn't going to answer.

Her sigh was long and suffering.

She managed one step down the stairs when he caught her hand—and drew her back up towards him, other hand fishing for something in his pocket once more.

Something gold and dainty caught the light as he pulled it from the slate gray cotton of his suit.

He pulled her gently closer, but her eyes remained on the delicate ring in his hand, and she nearly stumbled into his chest.

"Thats was..." she couldn't finish, his eyes flicked up to hers only for a moment—his hair still red and haloed in the morning light, before dropping to her hand in his.

Her left hand.

"Pol's, yeh." He nodded, resting his smoke in the crystal bowl with his other.

The ring was small and beautiful. A sweet twining of golden vines in a loop, curling up around a small flower-shaped diamond.

"But I couldn't..." she whispered, as her fingers shook in his.

"Michael gave it to me last night, to give to you. Pol agreed."

Her gaze snapped up to meet his, those grey eyes not so stormy now, but a soft overcast of the emotions behind them.

Her eyes burned, "But isn't Michael going to marry sometime—"

"Pol agreed," He repeated.

She could only nod as he slipped the smooth metal, warm from his hands, onto her finger.It was a pretty colour against her, European gold, she suspected; a beautiful, rich, and saturated hue. Nearly the colour of her skin.

Her own red nail polish was almost vulgar next to it.

She felt his breath against her hair before his lips against her temple. Her lungs filling with that fresh linen and whiskey smell of him.

He turned against her - the sweet sensation that was him, the mixed of his rough stubble against her chin and his long eyelashes against her cheek as his hand cupped her other side, pressing her there to him.

"And, Lil," he said as he ducked down.

His lips pressed into hers; soft, unconcerned, and warm. Before he whispered against them, "You are my woman. You're our woman. A Shelby woman. We all know what Shelby women are capable of."

He nodded his adamance, his lips still smooth against her, "So don't hate me for doin wat you would do for us boys, eh?"


End file.
